Anthology of Poems
by Saturnine Pariah
Summary: A collection of my personal favorite poems i have written over the years.


The deaths of individualism, an endless cycle of conformity, a tenacious alteration of your vision, are you unique in any way?

The hunger, greed and desire to reach a new level higher, musing of an existence prior what have you lost along the way?

Your mind a place of confusion, reckless and non hesitant with your life, are your goals just delusions or dreams

This psychotic devastation now claimed for self preservation, this endless march towards a mirage of salvation, will you see the truth in time?

Surreptitious in your desire, the heart of your flame grows higher with the conversion of thoughts whom are not "inspired"

Those against your causes are undesired, their thoughts you burn with fire, exile them from your wishful paradise

What cost is taken for your bliss from others? In history you fought against the "others", bloodshed, and persecution in the name of the son of the holy mother?

Are you in a pacified mind, for a force beyond your world will save you from yourself? Your doubts and questions are not allowed.

Are you unique, are you free? Or are you just another one of "his" little lost sheep, he gives you comfort and a pretense purpose, but soon he will end you.

The pulpit his tool, the humans his voice and existence, are you still sure of his presence? March to his word, think not of the absurd, and only listen to "his" words

Think not of the doubt that resonates within your mind; blindly trust the man who says you are blind, thus the cycle continues again

Questions, doubt, will leave you despised and victimized, never interject "him" never question "him" always follow the cause, and clap happily with the applause.

The endless masses plea and prey, they'll deify anyone for the hope of grace, the mindless dichotomy will temper their peaceful place

There all the same, each just with a different name, the message they preach the lifestyle they convey are each twisted and serpentine in their unique ways.

* * *

My thoughts haunted, a hollow state of apathy and the tears of fallen memories, will I ever see their faces again?

The time shared and exchanged can I reconcile with something that is so far away, is there recompense for such a tragic fate?

The battles we've fought, the lives we've taken, and will we ever be anything more than soldiers on the frontlines, forsaken?

Are we the same as before have we grown or are we worn? The fear of death the constant barrage of the enemy, is it them or me?

Brothers lost, their lives taken in a distant land that is already forsaken, what is worth the death of so many minds?

The chaos ensues, all whom are not prepared simply dissipate, and it's melancholy unreal, the soul is all that they can steal

The weapon my friend, death it's only desire nothing new in its future, it just fuels the fire, nothing more nothing less, death it's only desire

Saturnine as the day's light ends, the gunfire only grows higher as the vultures circle the fields, children cry through the night

The screaming of each man, the tears and blood of each one, the land is quite now, all that remains are the memories

I've come home ever since those days, however I'll never be the same, the battles I've won the victory proclaimed, have we truly won if were still not sane?

The town I see is not that of my youth, only now is it covered with dust, the machines speckled with rust I laugh and cry. Is it sadness or pride?

Those endless moments so far away, my former self in a land distained, can I ever live the same way again or shall I just dissipate into dust?

* * *

The money fills the corporate mills, as the peons work for another, the lives they live torn asunder; they belong to the men of plunder

Corruption for hire, fill the office and lay down the spires, the people cannot even know who is friend or who their foe is.

Avarice for global plight is the decadence of the wealthy; their voracious appetite is just another sinful delight

These opaque men of plunder, the creators of squalor, enslaved we are to this ravenous machine, all we have is our dreams

The individual crushed, the meek and small disposed, small men crushed off all hope, just hallow husks of the generations prior

Fanciful thrills come to order as your blood chills, still in chains, left only deranged yet they still stab into your mind

The almighty dollar, the producer of wealth or squalor? Only the rich breath free, your breath will cost a fee. To the captains of industry, you're a promiscuous whore, the price they make you pay for life is something to abhor

Those who fight, those whom fall all just end up another brick in their wall; the power is evident by the size

Oh yes, the decadent thrills, the cheap kills the lives ruined by our blunders they'll just have to be fixed by the sons of plunder

Right wing, Left wing all puppets of the new political machines, the offer is yours will you work but sacrifice your dreams?

The men of plunder will continue to tear asunder and call it a blunder; they are the bosses whom are victimized

"How sad, so many have died, but now is a great chance to buy!"

* * *

The victim, the outcast or interloper all the labels of the non-conformers, they seek to white wash us into a unified order

They run with the crowd, I hide in the shrouds watching the blind sheep march into conformity; I pity them for not being free

Persecuted and rejected the weak are there to support the strong, they continue to sing spurious songs, and just dance along.

I am the saturnine pariah, the unwanted intellectual that sees the truth in liars, am I the bringer of truth or a false liar, I am the saturnine pariah

The path that is laid, the choices made, leave me and others alone, I am surrounded by the masses still wearing spectacles of lies

The disturbing creation of a new type of nation leaves me dead and hopeless inside, what was once hope has only twisted me inside into something more sublime

The minority or majority both will always argue, the opinions skewed by such devilish shrews leave the sheeple dumbfounded

These outcast alone, will never be known by a society of logos and lies, so it seems that through their dreams they are satisfied

The gutters fill, the pain instilled the rain washes them away, only on the verge will they hear our words and reconsider what we have to say

Oh such a pity that the world around them is gritty but they should see our way, the world isn't that bad, being realistic is just mad

The sadness we see, always evident in front of me, is just hidden under their clever facades, they pretend to listen with quite little nods while inside they sob

The only way to see the truth is through me, the outcast you are told to hate, open your eyes and try to realize the world around is filled with people that hate

The history we bestow will simply show that people do die, the world isn't pretty, it can be damn gritty and the TVs just won't show what it is you need to know

* * *

An empty room once the man's tomb is now filled with vacant memories

He walks in, age displayed by hair on his chin and lip, a small tear rolls down his cheek

"It's been a while" a shy voices mutters in the man's ear

The man looks down to see a child, the child stares at him with a smile

"Why don't you visit me anymore Mister? The child asks with a cheerful glee

The man simply stands numb gazing at the child with unblinking eyes.

"Who are you?" the man asked as he knelt down to the child's eye level

"What are you doing in this room..It's been abandoned for years now"

The child cocks his head with a pensive face of confusion

"Abandoned? What are you talking about mister? There are always people here!"

But the room is covered in cob-webs and dust nothing remains, hollow like his dreams

More tears run down the man's cheeks "Why are you here! He yelled with a sob"

"There is nothing here anymore! Everyone is dead and gone!"

The child simply stared at the man as he wept and muttered to himself

The child approached the man and took his hand; it was soft and warm, almost alive

The child looked at him and smiled; he then closed his eyes and spoke in a voice so sweet

"The dead may be gone, but it is you who are their legacy. They will continue to live so long as their memories persist through you."

The child then disappeared in bright flash leaving the man stunned, but in the hand the child gripped hung a golden locket.

Engraved in the metal read a message: "Your existence is the sum of experience, love, learning and understanding"

Inside the locket was a small picture of his family and friend, in the opposite side a mirror reflecting a younger man with no tears in his eyes.

* * *

My sinister smile is not one of denial; the joy I feel is real.

My sinister smile, would disturbed the comfortable and make them question what is real

My cold demeanor is abashed as unapproachable they often ask "why are you not so sociable?"

My sinister smile is not one of denial; the hate I feel is real

My sinister smile, should comfort the disturbed, the ones you see as un-approachable

My eccentric ways and misanthropic gaze will leaved you dazed for days.

My sinister smile is not one of denial: the love I feel is real

My bookish craze a mental maze that few dare enter to solve, a true test of their resolve.

My sinister smile is not one of denial: the passion I feel is real

My sanity died with the lies that society passed for what is real, only now do I wish to reveal

My sinister smile oh that sinister smile, my only expression of what I am

The disturbed individual who fights constantly from the back of the lamb, he will ride for miles always wearing that sinister smile with chaos within his hand.

My Sinister smile, oh that sinister smile the only expression of a world that drove me mad.

* * *

Submitted to your authority, you've tried to make a whore of me

Complacency in place of individuality, a silenced mouth without a mind to speak

Mental alienation is what they want for this nation, they'll never break me

Conformity for the majority a pretense since of control

Corrupt the classes, kneel in masses for a idea that you don't believe yourself

Lead the lies, let loose the flies and maggots of your decay

Don't question them, just accept them in their righteous place of power

You've got an idea; will it sell or do we say that you're condemned to hell?

Practice what you preach, doesn't seem to get the corrupted leaders impeached.

What must you hide, if you know the truth? Why the defense for those lives insignificant?

The kings of nothing is what they'll be, their legacy printed into the pages of history

Pathological liars, endorsed to speak for those who are burning on the pyres

These mortal men so deified, the masses they oversee dehumanized

Another body drops as the ballots are counted, though the votes of the dead are not discounted.

* * *

For the one I may never meet, a solemn love I will always keep

A secret inside my heart that has been repressive from your attention

I may not know who you are...so many in this world like the midnight stars

I keep a fragile heart inside my chest; only few can approach without causing me dread

I only hope upon that day when we meet in the shade that you see what I am

My outlook can be cynical, my manners blunt and coarse but I only do this so I cannot be hurt

I trust few with my inner self, a shell to keep others away, no longer do I wish for that shell to stay.

I'm alone with myself; thought surrounded by comrades...Something deeper is what I need

Someone to pull the best out of me, to judge my heart and mind my faults contently

A need to be loved and cherished by others yet still keeps a safe distance.

In this contemplation I weep, for whom can I entrust to give my deepest dreams?

This question I cannot answer until I find that one…until she finds me.

Fear of failure, rejection and cruelty, these discouraged me from life and left me hesitant to pursue love.

Fear now is what motivates me to open my heart and feel beyond the mundane.

Fear not of failure but of what could have been, fear of regrets and lonesome thoughts that would creep on me to no end

I write this to anyone who happens to read...Only through this can I truly explain what my heart needs.

For love is entrusting that one person with your heart when you give it to them and hoping that they don't break it.

* * *

A lonesome figure walks alone, along a path of a cobblestone

A small shadow near his side, a sanguine sun keeps it alive

The figure walks all alone, no destination simply following the stones

As the person walks far and near, no has disturbed his path or kept it clear

This lonesome figure walked alone, along the same path of cobblestone

The shadow stalking ever clear, growing larger as the dawn neared

This enigmatic figure, always walked, many have tried to ask where he was going but he never talked

This lonely figure stilled walked alone, years of travels yet still no stone has aged under his foot

The small shadow simply veered as the figure walked so queer through the sleet or rain.

This lonesome figured stilled walked alone, along a mossy path of cobblestone

The shadow his companion or so it appeared never gawked or sneered.

A small village in the gentle hills, innocence in the villas would come to a chill

As this figure walked its roads, a woman meets him upon the cobblestone

She is frightened at first by the shadow's sneer but overlooked the pitiful creature

"Oh dear" said the woman as she gazed upon the man, his figure languid in stance

"For how long have you walked alone?" the woman asked

In a voice that was both weak and weary the figure responded in a voice so dreary

"I've never been alone; for you see in spirit I'm always accompanied"

"I've walked this country to and fro, never feeling lonely or cold"

The shadow grew as the words were said, giving the woman a sense of dread.

"For you see fair maiden" the figure sneered, "You'll keep me company for many years!"

* * *

When the hollow lies have died, when the faithful lose their pride

When the leaders lose their heads once the rivers begin to run red

When the paradigm of society is shattered by the facts

When the comfortable are disturbed and the disturbed are relaxed

Once the graves overflow only then will we know

When the world begins to burn, in metaphor and reality

I will stand upon the hill, watching this glimpse of mortality

Smirking all the while, appreciating the one thing that I've yearned to see.

To see all that I hate burn down in front of me, that will be a delight to see

When greed is dead and gone and when the blind finally see

I will not say a thing as they burn down in front of me

When vanity has collapsed and the rich are now poor

When there is no more sense of social class I'll be there for sure.

As world collapses and begins to burn the sky, I will stand alone on that hill as the masses ask "WHY!?"

With a smile neither on my face, nor any hint of disgrace I will answer their pseudo filled cries

"You ask why? It's simple…you were born into a lie, hello and goodbye"

* * *

As the tears fall upon my face, alone I weep in my own disgrace

For the chances of life that I have let slip by, all I can do now is cry

For the memories I cannot forget, the pain and hurt of my regrets

The scars not visible but oh so deep they simply reaffirm why I weep

For this life I have lived I've always distrusted what others had to say

As the placid drops drip from my eyes I simply gawk and ponder why

A fate so tragic and discomposed such hollow melodies of dreams foretold

I weep lowly once again; the streaming tears always drop in the rhythm of a cruel clock

"Why cruel fortunate must I be alone, am I so repugnant to those I grown to know?"

The question it goes about in the form of a teary shout

I've known the answer for so long, playing around in my head like a song

"You never gave them a chance, you see. You've tried to avoid the worst in thee"

"For one who acted so cold, your heart was the softest in a world that loathed"

* * *

I'm the spark in your head, the mental undead, the thoughts you repress and keep inside your chest

I'm the darkness; I'm the fear that you hold so dear, I'm in your heart and your mind yet so deeply intertwined

You're the host of my existence, the blood of persistence you're the danger in my mind that I couldn't leave behind

You're the spark in my night, the source of the dim fire light, the bullet in my head made of the slowly melting lead

I'm the fear of your heart; a bitter-sweet kiss departs as you sleep once again. I'm the shadow of when you fall into your bad habits again.

Odious I am with when I bring upon your hand, a touch of cruelty and cold staunch reality

You're the blade of the knife, cutting once or twice revealing scars unseen in my melancholy dreams

I'm the finale curtain call, waiting in the stalls sparking your dread, you've have no fear of being dead

You're the bane of my existence and yet I'm still persistent in making you mine.

Slowly the blood drips, from the cuts upon your wrist with this you'll see one last time,

I'm the demon that you're missing, the evil you've been wishing to meet for so long, you were too weak to try to listen to my song.

I'd be not too weary of this mental mercenary, who fights for your soul, I've killed before still unsure if your blood is worth all this gore.

You're the craving of my art, as wicked thoughts depart into the world of undead; I'm the flower that rots in the fields already dark.

I'm your ego, your pride, yourself personified in the wicked and morbid ways

I'm the puzzle of death; would you like to take a guess in solving this mental maze?

You're the birth of my start in which everything departs in wayward and random ways or would take pause and simply applaud this macabre play?

You'll see me in time my dear…when your death is all but too near!

* * *

I've laughed today once I saw the news on the T.V's display of man's sons dying under the pretense of monetary sums.

I've laughed today when I heard the leader's policies cause so much distain, I laughed again when they promised change

I've laughed today at the reaction to such "tragic" losses of human life; I'm laughing again in a world overflowing with strife

I've laughed today, at the statistics written on the walls, they drip with blood still red and bright in droplets that fall.

I'll laugh again at the pseudo pleas in their pathetic wails, I laugh again when people fight for material sales.

I've laughed today, when a man of god told me that he loved me, I laughed again just as well when he said I'd burn in hell

I've laughed, manically at everything the same, I laugh you see not because I'm entertained

I laugh you see for this world made me deranged. We are a joke you and me. Everything we do is funny to me.

I laugh today at a punch line to jokes so cruel and cold, I laugh you see at a future we've already sold.

_"Once you figured out what a joke everything is, being __The Comedian__ is the only thing that makes sense"_-_Edward Blake, Watchmen_

* * *

You want me dead, you want me gone, and I'll be your wayward vagabond

See through my scratched lenses and cry out repentance when you see me unscathed

You want me deranged, you want me insane, and you want me to cry, you want me to lie, do you want me to just die?

Love is my hatred, without it I'm naked, but you're the ones who made it this way.

You want me complicate, you want me absolved, and you want me to be the victim when your morals fall?

Livid fueled passion, your medial distractions of the tragedies that happen in this world today

You want me censored, you want me cut, and you want me to give fuck about the lies you feed the youth?

Diversionary tactics, plain and full of placid people who hold the reigns, power you promise me if I bow to your infirmity

You want me conformed, you want me dumb, you want me to be mentally numb as I march to your god's son

I'll be the fire of your rage, the maggot of your decay, the fear that you feel when I show what is real

You want me dead, you want be gone and I'll be your wayward vagabond, pugnacious I am when you try to grab my hand

Conflicted and reeling from this hate that you're feeling, you're hopeless when knelling under a crumbling ceiling.

You want me to fly, you want me to never again speak, and you know the secrets that I keep will bring about your end.

* * *

When you judge me, you should do it quietly and maliciously, stab me in the back while preying on my fear.

When you look through my head, and mock my very existence and my resolve please throw in a pinch of salt.

When you hear me talk, rudely gawk and pry on the cliff of what I have to say, you'll have never listened anyway

When you beat me, do it with spite, at least I'll have known your touch that night even if the bruises hurt.

When you beat me down to an emotional low, your shame will show in the tears I shed, you're the one who is really dead.

When you cut me, with words like razors look into my eyes and pray to your savior that you won't burn in hell.

When you scream and yell at me, do with a sympathetic look in your eyes, each tear I shed, you die a little inside

When you don't even look at me, those are the moments which scare me the most; to be seen as nothing…that is my greatest fear

When you pass me on the sidewalk, don't ignore me, to see me as nothing...Is a torture no one should have to endure.

"The greatest insult one can afford to expend is indifference. To treat a human being as nothing or to look upon with apathy is far worse than to give them negative attention. For even in the negative attention...At least your attacker is acknowledging that you exist"-Saturnine Pariah

* * *

Alone I was until I met you, both lost children in this world that left us unfurled against the cold

Alone we were together, the warmth of each other is all we felt in a world that didn't bother to reach out and help.

To be wanted, to be loved, we both felt empty in these regards; together we healed each other's scars

Alone we walked, huddled against the cold, always seeing each other's sadness within the eyes of those who misjudged us

Walked we did, for so along on those roads, never a silence broken in a winter who's passivity let us grow so close

I walked with you, through the misery and the pain, sleet and rain; I walked with you because you helped me change

Alone we were, or at least that's the life we were dealt, Alone we were but I never felt by my self

Tears I have shed, when we saw each other in pain, tears we shed masked by saturnine rains

Alone we were and for that it made us stronger, together we are from here on out and always living stronger.

Walk we will, even in the cold rain, walk with you I will even if we're in pain, walk we will against a future untold

Walk I will forever with the person I am never know.

* * *

Dusty trails and rusted nails adorned this shadow town

Empty husks of people walk to and fro without sound

Wind blows and sun bleaches the dead and gone

Dusty trails and human fragility adorn this musty town.

An empty saloon, selling the brown liquor tombs of a by-gone age

Creases and cracks, and wooden flaks creak with the footsteps of the day

Retention of silence, a pious withdrawal as the day clocks down by the age spots on the wooden walls.

The people walk but never stop for a moment to care or exchange.

The go about their lives never seeking an answer why the town is this way.

Revolvers in hand, death is grand for any who may happen to speak out here

Lonesome walks, the wind only talks with whispers in the ears

The gunslinger man, a killer so grand and traveler of the open road

Calloused he is of worldly thoughts; at the cock of a hammer another body drops.

Gritty and rustic he is the example of what is to become of boy in this land

Kill or be killed, blood you will spill if you dare to live in the ever blowing sands.

Wild and livid yet he'll keep living by the death of what he yields in his hand

A gunslinger free, a gunslinger to be when we all walk into a world of the unfamiliar

Gunslinger man, steady in face and stance ride on and on until you reach the Promised Land.

* * *

If you are hated, feel no pain, be that person who sings happily in the rain

If you are lonely and have felt unknown, be warmer than those who left you out in the cold

If you are rejected, misjudged or simply misconstrued, let your character reflect the true you.

If you are bent, beaten or worn, get up and grow stronger and tend to what is torn.

If you're hopeless or given up on life, urge yourself to believe that peace will not come by way of the knife.

If you are unwanted, treated as garbage believe me when I say you're life will turn out okay

If there's one lesson I've learned from my turbulent youth, all it takes one person to care and give meaning to you and to save you from despair.

* * *

I have rendezvous with a friend, but never have I meet him

Scarcely have I seen him in my own life and he meets with everyone in due time

I have a rendezvous with a friend whom saw me enter upon the stage

I've yet to meet this friend of mine but he tells me our contact grows with my age.

I have a rendezvous with this friend not as a formality

For my friend is said to suffer from his own immortality

I've seen others meet with my friend, and so abruptly their lives did end

He watched my birth unfurl and knew where I'd meet my end in this world

He is not cold yet not kind; he judges the world through impartial eyes

I have a rendezvous with death, and I shall not fail that rendezvous


End file.
